


good times

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, One Shot, Random urge to write a one-shot, Randomness, bughead - Freeform, romantic spark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 18:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10769901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: "For a moment, the fleeting discovery that she’s actually quite stunning in her candid genuity breaches his thoughts before he quickly pushes that feeling down. " [bughead au]





	good times

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd - please forgive errors

 

 

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _“Important encounters are planned_  
>  _by the souls long before the bodies_  
>  _see each other.”_  
>  _—Paulo Coelho_
> 
> ◯

 

Jughead Jones has a specific spot at his local diner.

He has a routine every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He wakes up, goes to his morning class, spends the next three hours at a 50’s themed diner named _‘Good Times_ ’, goes back to campus for his final two classes before retiring back to his dorm for an evening of video games, studying or Netflix binging.

He’s been a regular for the past two years since moving to Atlanta, Georgia.

The owner of the restaurant knows him by name. The employees know his order by heart and they take no offense to his poor socializing skills—or rather, lack thereof. And while he has no literal claim to the small booth by the restaurant’s main window facing the city, Jughead knows that most people who frequent the establishment _know_ that table is his.

So it’s a bit of a surprise when, on a regular Monday morning, Jughead discovers someone’s sitting in his booth.

Laptop in hand and book bag slung over his shoulder, he pauses at the door and frowns at the woman in his seat. There’s a few empty tables nearby, but he knows soon there will be a lunch rush, and the seats will soon be filled. Really, he has no other choice than to take the next best spot—further away from the window but still giving a small view for him to stare out of when lacking inspiration.

The only booth available is the one directly attached to his usual.

With an annoyed twitch of his brow, Jughead drags his feet over to the spot. He sits down and immediately feels misplaced. This is not his spot. His spot is currently occupied by the woman too immersed in her book to notice his dry stare toward her.

It’s not long before a coffee is placed in front of him, and Jughead mutters a small thanks to the waitress before pulling his piles of books out on the table. Without meaning to, his eyes flicker back to the woman across from him. She’s moved her book down to rest flat against the table and it’s then he notices just how big and blue her eyes are.

She’s blonde, and he can see the faintest tinge of pink on her lips. He also discovers the perfect alignment of her teeth when they peek out to gnaw on her bottom lip—her face pinching in distress at whatever’s snagged her emotion from the book she’s invested herself in. He’s flummoxed when her cheeks suddenly flare a dark red as her tongue darts out to lick her lips, making them shine in the diner’s florescent lighting.

It’s then Jughead recoils with disgust in himself when realizing he’d been staring _far_ too intently to notice such things about a stranger. Giving a low scoff, he snaps his laptop open and clicks on his word document.  

There’s a short period in which Jughead loses track of his surroundings, too absorbed in his writing. But when he hears the waitress ask the woman across from him if she wants dessert, Jughead has no control over the way his eyes snap up to watch her respond.

The blonde smiles brightly— _too_ brightly. He frowns when his chest tightens, just a bit. She has a perfect smile, and good god, there’s nothing fake about it.

It’s sickening.

“Maybe a piece of apple pie?” the woman tells the waitress, thanking her when her coffee cup is refilled. Jughead watches in slight fascination when her teeth move to bite at her lower lip again as she contemplates something before quickly adding. “With vanilla ice cream, please?”

Jughead doesn’t know a thing about this woman but he snorts quietly to himself at the order. She looks like an apple pie sort of girl.

Unfortunately, the woman hears his snort and turns her gaze toward him. Jughead immediate feels his own eyes widen before he’s slouching into his seat, focusing on the screen of his laptop intently and feeling the heat of her stare on him. _Great_ , he thinks. Now she probably thinks he was staring at her.

Well… he was.

But not in the way people would assume.

He’s just bitter about his booth.

After a few minutes of his finger tapping against the edge of his laptop, Jughead finally risks a peek toward the blonde. She’s drumming her fingers against the table in front of her and looking down, waiting for her pie. The book she’d been reading is closed now and sitting to the side, untouched.

When she finally leaves a little while later, Jughead can’t help when his eyes trail after her, watching until the flick of her tight ponytail is out the door. Without waiting for a busboy to clean her mess, he quickly moves his stuff to her booth— _his_ booth—and settles into his regular spot.

He heaves a sigh of relief and pushes her mug and dirty plate away before comfortably delving back into his writing.

… … …

When Friday rolls around, Jughead’s mostly forgotten about the blonde who’d stolen his booth on Monday. She’d been absent from the diner on Wednesday—out of sight, out of mind.

So when Jughead walks in to _‘Good Times’,_ he pauses once again at the sight of the same woman in his booth— _again_.

Narrowing his eyes, he grumbles internally when taking the same seat he’d sat on Monday. This time however, when he glances up at her, he’s startled to see the pair of large blue eyes staring back at him. They hold each other’s gazes for a moment before her attention snaps down to the book in her hands. He watches bemused as her cheeks turn a faint pink color. Was she blushing because of him? To his complete horror and confusion, Jughead feels his own cheeks heat up as his tongue goes dry.

Why his body has reacted to a measly stare, he has no idea. He slouches in his seat and continues his routine, giving a nod of appreciation to the waiter who slides him a hot cup of coffee.

“Crazy weather today, huh, Jug?” the waiter, a balding man named Carl, tries to small talk.

Jughead gives him a wry smile before lifting his brow. “You don’t have to sweet talk me, Carl. I’ll leave you a good tip.”

Carl only laughs good-naturedly, fully accustomed to Jughead’s sarcastic humor, before removing the menus from his table. “Good. I’m due to pay my electric bill today and I’m only thirty bucks short of the total.”

Jughead gives a low chuckle before Carl taps the table with the stack of menus in his hand. “I’ll have your order out soon.”

“Thanks.”

“You need anything else, sweetheart?” he asks the blonde in passing.

She only smiles that wide sincere smile he’d witnessed earlier that week, and shakes her head. “Oh, no thank you. I’m good for now.”

“Alright. Holler if ya need anything.” Carl smiles back before walking away.

The woman lifts her book back up and Jughead can’t help the snort that falls from his lips once more when reading the title. He’d obviously lacked discretion in volume over his wry amusement in her selection of literature, because not two seconds after he’s done that, she’s lowering her book and giving him a narrowed look.

“Do you have something to say?” she stares at him with those doe-like eyes that look suspiciously able to reel anyone in with their beauty. Jughead freezes before turning to look over his shoulder, unsure if she’s actually talking to him and not someone else. He doesn’t have to wonder long however, as she continues. “Yes, you. The guy who’s been glaring at me since Monday.”

Jughead opens his mouth before snapping it shut, for once feeling at a loss for words. She looks at him expectantly, though he quickly notices the underlying wave of nervousness in her eyes.

“I wasn’t glaring at you.” He finally responds, feeling just the smallest bit of ease in realizing her tough tone is just a front.

“Well, you obviously have something to say.” She continues as her shoulders square back. Her hair is down today, and Jughead stares at the way they fall like ringlets over her exposed collarbone at the motion.

Unwilling to be silenced by some seat-stealing woman with gold hair, Jughead squares his own shoulders and leans onto his forearms to reply unperturbed. “Alright, fair. I’m just…tickled by your reading choice is all.”

“My…” the blonde furrows her brows and turns her book over. “You’re amused that someone is reading _Romeo and Juliet_?”

Jughead rolls his eyes at her puzzled tone.

“What? Not a fan of Shakespeare?” she raises a delicate brow, unknowingly challenging and offending the literature enthusiast part of him.

“Of course I am.” He scoffs, leaning back against his seat and stretching an arm out over the bench. “But I prefer the plays that aren’t so overrated.”

She gives a short laugh of bemusement to his response and leans forward on her own table. “Such as?”

“Such as…” Jughead glances upward thoughtfully before looking back to her. “ _Titus Andronicus_.”

“Interesting choice…” She says slowly.

“You’ve read it?” Jughead furrows his brows in intrigue.

“Only once.” She replies with a small quirk of her lips at his reaction. “But once was definitely enough.”

“Too gorey for you?” he smirks, feeling a small spike of amusement when she flicks her hair and her cheeks darken for the second time since being in each other’s company.

“I just prefer different genres.” She shrugs.

“Of course.” Jughead states impudently. “Like romance? Star crossed lovers?”

“And what’s wrong with romances?” she argues, looking slightly offended at his tone. “They’ve got just as much to offer a reader as other genres.”

“Yeah,” he snorts in disdain. “Like unrealistic expectations and dramatized ideals.”

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” she counters dryly before grabbing her coffee and brazenly moving to sit directly across from him in his booth.

Jughead’s so surprised by her gall to invite herself at his table, he doesn’t move when she leans forward to read the title of his own books while also glancing briefly at the document up on his computer.

“Truman Capote, James Ellroy… the black coffee, the _‘don’t bother me, I’m brooding’_ look, topped with a blank word document—let me guess,” she starts, drumming her fingers across her mug as a playful grin appears on her lips. “You’re a regular Mort Rainey, aren’t you?”

Part of Jughead wants to be annoyed or offended at her little assumption; however, a larger part is very intrigued by her knowledge and scarily close accuracy in judgement.

“Apart from the dissociative identity disorder, you’re not far off the mark there.” He responds, feeling his lips curve slightly in amusement at her look of self-satisfaction for pulling a playful response back from him.

“So you enjoy criminology? Horror? Suspense?” she questions interestedly, taking a sip of her drink.

Jughead shrugs lightly. “I enjoy a lot of different genres.”

“Expect romance.” She counters with a quirked brow and twitched lips.

“I never said that.”

“So why the disdainful glances at my reading preferences?”

“Well,” Jughead begins, feeling a little more at ease in the conversation taking place. He won’t realize until later that she has a natural way to her that just exudes familiarity and comfortability. Jughead isn’t socially inclined by any means, and he does his best to avoid pointless chatter— _especially_ with people he doesn’t know—but this woman… he finds the conversation flows easily between them. “You just looked like the type of girl who’d be into _Romeo and Juliet_.”

Jughead realizes he’s said something wrong when her demeanor shifts, as well as her posture when she pulls back slightly. Blue eyes narrowing, her lips curve downward.

“I look like the ‘ _type of girl’_?” she questions, the displeasure clear in her voice. “Do you normally stare at women and judge what type of girl they are?”

“Wh—“ Jughead feels his eyes widen as he sits up straighter. “No! No, that’s not what I meant.”

“So what did you mean?” she asks, frown still in place.

“Okay, truthfully, I was just irritated with you.” He says, feeling a strange sense of relief when her shoulders slump from their tensed position. Her face, however, pinches with puzzlement at his response and for a split second, he thinks she looks kind of cute with that expression.

“Irritated at me?” she blinks at him, wrapping her hands around her mug. “How? We don’t even know each other.”

Jughead moves his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as he inhales with a slightly embarrassed smile. “True, but… well, I was just annoyed that you’d taken my seat again.”

When he gestures to the booth behind them, he watches as her brows shoot up in surprise at his admittance.

“Your seat?” she turns back around to face him. “I didn’t know it was yours.”

“The more you know.”

“I didn’t realize your name was on it.” She jokes with a low chuckle.

“That’s because you haven’t read the writing under the table.” He quips back.

Without hesitation, she stands up and bends over to read the bottom of the booth’s table behind them before settling back in her seat. “ _’Jughead wuz here’_? Your name is Jughead?”

“Yeah...” He raises a brow, challenging her to make a sarcastic or belittling remark about it. However, when she speaks, he’s disarmed by that radiant smile he’s seen before now directed at _him_.

“I like it.” She nods before lifting her mug up again for a drink.

Jughead searches for any sort of sarcasm on her end, but he finds that she’s nothing but sincere in her statement. There’s no deceit in her tone or in her expressive eyes. For a moment, the fleeting discovery that she’s actually quite stunning in her candid genuity breaches his thoughts before he quickly pushes that feeling down. Swallowing the dry knot in his throat, Jughead licks his lips and feigns nonchalance when he shrugs. “You’re among the few who do.”

“Well, those who don’t have poor taste then.” She shrugs without missing a beat. “Jughead is a nice name. It’s distinctive.”

Jughead doesn’t tell her it’s a name given to him by childhood bullies, but he does feel slightly nauseated when letting his eyes linger on the smile directed at him. But not nauseated in a _bad_ way. It’s almost in a _good_ way…

“And what about you?” he questions, gesturing toward her. “To whom doth ‘fair Verona’ welcome in her streets?”

A hand stretches across the table and over his laptop as she introduces herself. “I’m Betty.”

“Betty.” He tests the name and lets it roll off his tongue as he shakes her hand. It suits her, he thinks—only this time, there’s no annoyance or condescension in the thought. No, this time, Jughead genuinely thinks the name suits her pleasant manner.

“Nice to meet you Jughead.” She says before pulling her hand back.

Strangely, his hand feels tingly after touching her own, and he clenches it in a fist at his side. “Likewise.”

Betty smiles at him and bites her lip, the action sending a pleasant jolt down his stomach this time. He’s suddenly rendered speechless when the light of the sun shines through the window, basking her in a soft glow. Like a freight train, he’s hit with inspiration for the female lead in his novel.

She’s just opening her mouth to speak when an alarm on her phone goes off. Reaching down, she silences it before pocketing the device and downing the rest of her drink.

“I have to head to class.” She states, forcing him to sit upright with the alarming realization that he doesn’t exactly _want_ her to go. He’s actually enjoying her company.

He watches in captivation as she bites her lip and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear in a demure manner. Her movement… her demeanor…

She’s enthralling.

“It was nice meeting you, Jughead Rainey.”

When Betty stands up to leave, Jughead reaches out and grasps her wrist, feeling only slightly mortified when realizing what he’s done. Releasing it immediately after, he drops his hand into his lap and feigns an unaffected appearance.

“Jones.” He corrects. “My name, it's uh, it’s Jughead Jones.”

Betty’s surprised face at his quick gesture quickly softens into a smile that makes his chest feel warm again. “Betty Cooper.”

“Will you be here again on Monday?” he asks before she can walk away completely. He swears he sees her eyes light up at his question and pushes the strange feeling of pleasure at the discovery over it down.

“I think so.” she nods, gripping the lapel of her bag tightly.

“You can sit with me.” He says slowly while giving an accompanied shrug of feigned nonchalance. “At my table… If you want.”

“Sure.” Betty’s smile widens, making his chest tighten with relief and accelerated heartbeat as she nods at his offer. “It’s a date.”

Jughead inhales sharply at the words before she turns away and pays for her meal. When she walks out the door, he pays little mind to the plate being set in front of him. All he can think of is how much he can’t wait for Monday, to learn more about the seat-stealing girl with the golden hair and bright blue eyes.

Betty Cooper.


End file.
